


Fake News

by orphan_account



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: MFMM Year of Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12011427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Someone attempts to blackmail Phryne with an altered photo showing she and Jack in a compromising position. A light-hearted entry for the September challenge "rumors and gossip". Set late Season 2.





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inzannatea (Zanna23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/gifts).



The first thing Phryne heard was the metalic _CLANG_ of the letter opener as it hit the floor. The second thing she heard was Dot's shriek — perhaps it had followed an inaudible gasp — and it was, in turn, followed by Dot's shrill cry of "Oh, no!" and "Miss! Come quickly." 

Phryne did not move as quickly as you might expect. In the year in which she and Dot had come to know one another and, yes, become friends as well as employer and employee, Phryne had learned how to decode the timbre of Dot's exclamations — which tone meant spilled tea or a missed stitch, which tone corresponded with a moral shock of some kind of another, and which was indicative of real danger. This particular shout of "Miss!" fell somewhere in the middle range. 

When Phryne reached the kitchen, she found Dot seated at the table, head in hands. A large plain envelope, neatly sliced open, was now askew at the edge of the table. Underneath the envelope, turned over on its face so as not cause further offense, Phryne found this: 

  
  


It was no wonder Dot was shocked. In Phryne's expert opinion, the print was a terrible attempt at photo manipulation. Jack's skin tone wasn't even consistent, and something about the angle of their bodies seemed not quite right. In any case, the photo didn't reflect any one of her hundreds — well, perhaps thousands — of vivid mental images of how that sort of evening might transpire... 

"Miss?" Dot ventured. 

"Yes, Dot." 

"Is it? — No, I apologize, Miss. I shouldn't ask. I shouldn't even have looked. It a sin, to have looked. I'm sure of it. But I came into the kitchen and I was going through the mail, as I always do, and I opened the envelope, just like I always do, and...." 

"Dot," Phryne stated firmly, attempting to break through the rambling, not to mention totally unnecessary, confession. 

"Dot!" she very nearly shouted, "It's not real." 

"It's not Miss?" 

"Have you ever seen the Inspector here overnight, Dot?" 

"Well, no. But I have gone up to my own room while you and the Inspector were still having your nightcap in the parlor, and I wouldn't really know. I mean, it's not really my business to know. And..." 

"It's a forgery, Dot. A fake." 

"Photos can be faked?" Dot asked incredulously. 

"Oh yes," Phryne replied, placing this photo back in its envelope. "Was there a note inside? Some sort of blackmail demand?" 

"No, miss" 

"Anything written on the outer envelope?" 

"Only the number 8000. What could that mean?" 

"Grab your coat Dot and come along," Phryne announced. 

"Where are we headed Miss?" Dot asked. 

"To _Women's Choice_ magazine of course. We need to borrow the expertise of Miss Charlesworth's photo editor." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know who to credit for the original version of this manipulated image, but it has been going around the old interwebs for a while now. Given this months trope challenge, I gave it a bit more of a '20s vibe and brought it into our fictional world.
> 
> UPDATE - @solitarycyclist tells me that the original photo manipulation is by this tumblr blogger: <http://2bbornot2bb.tumblr.com/> Thank you for the image and inspiration!


	2. Upon Further Examination

“You mean you never….” Mac asked. 

“Never,” Phryne replied. 

“I knew you were on the outs a while ago,” Mac continued, straining a bit with effort as she moved a heavy microscope from a storage area to an examination table in an otherwise empty anatomy lab. 

“Yes, and you inserted yourself right into the middle of that one,” Phryne replied. As Mac pulled the dust cover from the microscope, Phryne removed the blackmail photo from its envelope. 

“But before, you never?” Mac persisted. 

“No. Never.” 

“And after?” 

“Mac, would I be here asking you to do this ridiculous favor in the middle of the night if there were any chance it was an accurate photo of Jack and myself?” 

Mac shrugged. “I try not to examine your motivations too carefully, Phryne.” 

Phryne couldn’t help but laugh. There really was nothing like having this kind of old friend — the kind who could be called out to her laboratory in the middle of the night for dubious pursuits without much in the way of explanation. 

When the microscope was in place, Mac switched on the overhead examination lamp. Both hands carefully encased in medical gloves, she grasped the photo by the edges and placed it under the magnifying lens. 

“Mrs. Charleworth’s photo editor says we’re looking for artifacts of the manipulation process,” Phryne explained. “Areas where the photos were spliced together and the color doesn’t quite match up.” 

“And then what?” Mac asked. 

“We note them,” Phryne stated, tapping a pencil against a small pad. 

Mac leaned in and she placed a practiced eye on the microscope eye-piece. Phryne, ever impatient, edged in close, looming over Mac’s shoulder. There may have been some bumping, inadvertently, of course. 

“Would you like to do this?” Mac scowled. 

“No,” Phryne responded in her highest pitch. “I trust you implicitly.” 

“I need more light,” Mac said. “Make yourself useful and take a look in the storage closet.” 

Phryne huffed but did as she was told, opening the door the adjacent room, pulling the overhead chain to turn on the ceiling lamp, and busying herself among the shelves, when she happened to hear a very familiar clearing of the throat from the examination room. 

“Doctor MacMillan,” the familiar voice announced. 

“Inspector,” Mac answered. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Yes, well,” Jack stumbled. “I took a chance you might be here.” 

“In the middle of the night,” Mac answered. 

Jack produced a large envelope from behind his back. “I need a favor.” 

“That envelope you’re holding wouldn’t happen to be a perfect match for this one,” Mac said, waving Phryne’s envelope towards him with a certain flourish. 

Phryne, still secluded in the storage closet, stifled a laugh. This was a delicious turn of events. She counted to five slowly. If she timed her entrance perfectly… 

“Miss Fisher!” Jack exclaimed, a light pink blush starting to color his cheeks unbidden. 

“Hullo, Jack,” she replied with practiced confidence, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that she might emerge from Mac’s storage room at this hour of night. “What have you got there?” 

“I might ask you the same question, Miss Fisher.” 

Mac rolled her eyes, removed Phryne’s copy of the photo from the microscope and handed it to Jack. “Can we speed this up?” 

Jack examined the photo, pulled his own copy from his envelope, just slightly, enough to confirm the match, then placed them both face down on the examination table. “Where did you get the photo?” 

“It was delivered to Wardlow today,” Phryne answered. “Gave poor Dot quite a shock.” 

“I imagine,” Mac interjected. 

Phryne stepped in close to Jack, slid a practiced finger down his tie just so, then looked up into his eyes with the most innocent gaze she could muster. “Where did you get yours, Jack?” 

“It’s a fake,” he protested. 

“Of course it is Jack,” she replied, her tone now the perfect pitch of reasonableness. “If I’d had you in my bed like that, I’d certainly remember.” 

Phryne moved away as the blush crept across Jack’s face once again. 

She picked up both photos from the examination table, held them up to the overhead light in such a way that Jack couldn’t help but see the images again, then passed her copy back to Mac at the microscope. 

“Mac was helping me identify the tell-tale signs of a photo manipulation,” Phryne stated evenly. 

“Yes,” Jack responded. “I was rather hoping she might have the kind of microscope that might be useful for that effort.” 

“Is the police lab lacking microscopes?” Phryne asked, again high-pitched and faux innocent. 

“Would you two please stop,” Mac interjected. “The photo is a fake. Neither one of you truly want it to be a fake, but there we are. There's nothing I can do about that.” With that bit of wisdom delivered, Mac put her head down to focus on the task at hand. 

“Phryne, did you find an additional lamp.” 

“No,” Phryne sing-songed, then shuffled back into the storage closet, silently motioning for Jack to follow her. 

In the relative seclusion of the alcove, she pulled him close again. “I’m not terribly surprised the blackmailer found a photo of me in a compromising position, but tell me, Inspector, where _did_ they get that photo of you?” 


	3. Manipulation, for Good and Evil...

“It’s easier to see if you use the magnifying glass, Aunt P.” 

Prudence Stanley had no intention of taking the magnifying glass from her niece. 

In fact, her intention, when she had marched up the path to the front door of Wardlow that evening, was to impress upon on Phryne that the matter of the scandalous photograph that had been delivered to her home in an unmarked envelope was Quite Serious and Not To Be Taken Lightly. 

Phryne had a decidedly different attitude. 

“But the photo isn’t real, Aunt P.,” she laughed. “I can show you exactly how the images were joined together. It’s really quite fascinating.” 

“What if these photos continue to show up around town? What if they were sent to the newspapers? I know you don’t care about your reputation but you have some obligation to think about mine.” 

Prudence was over-dramatic, of course, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. People had been shunned from the boards of worthy charities and fine arts commissions for far less. 

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, Aunt P. But if it does, you’ll simply have to explain how the image was fabricated.” 

“And you say the man has been caught?” Prudence inquired. 

“The blackmailer? Yes, he’s in custody right now. He was a counterfeiter, you see, though not a very good one, and a double murderer. He had slightly more facility in that regard.” 

“Phryne!” 

“The man was simply trying to get Jack to back off the investigation,” Phryne continued, eyes sparkling as she told the tale. “But Jack is not that easily manipulated.” 

Phryne placed the magnifying glass in her aunt’s hand and holding it, like you might with a small child, moved it over the section of the photograph where Jack’s head had been placed, just so, behind Phryne’s. 

Prudence bent over the dining room table and squinted into the lens of the glass. She wasn’t certain that she had even seen the Inspector with his hat off, not to mention, with his other clothing… well… 

This was all too much. 

Prudence straightened and dropped the magnifying glass. Just because the Inspector was an attractive man didn’t mean she was going to take any pleasure from looking at his image, or his manipulated image, if that was the case, or, _really_ , any part of his image at all. 

Phryne looked at her aunt carefully. “What if I explained the technique using a different photo? Would that help?” 

“Someone clothed,” Prudence answered. “Someone I’ve never met.” 

Luckily for Phryne one of Dot’s movie magazines had been left on the sideboard. 

“Have a look here, Aunt P.,” Phryne said, flipping idly through the pages. “See anyone you fancy a closer look at? Valentino, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Snowy Baker?” 

“I wouldn’t know any of these men, Phryne. I don’t go to the pictures.” Yet Prudence continued to turn the magazine pages, stopping on a photo of an elegantly dressed dark haired man with a mysterious, far-away look in his eye. She picked up the magnifying glass. 

“Tyrone Power, Sr.,” Phryne remarked, her voice mildly teasing and wholly good-natured. “I approve of the choice. Dot tells me his son is an actor also, and just as attractive.” 

“I’m interested in the photographic technique,” Prudence replied, summoning her best imperious tone. 

“Yes, the photographic technique,” Phryne echoed, realizing she had won the battle. “Look carefully at the at the edge of the figure. If the photo has been manipulated, there will be tiny artifacts of color…” 

* * *

“What do you think, Miss?” Dot inquired, removing a sheet of wet photo paper from a tray of solution and pinning it to the line to dry. 

“Masterful technique,” Phryne enthused. “You have quite the knack for this.” 

They were in the darkened photo lab at _Women’s Choice_ magazine, Phryne having traded a generous contribution to the magazine’s operating fund for a few hours of expert instruction and experimentation time. 

“I believe I joined the figures together quite smoothly, Miss,” Dot continued. “The casual viewer might not even notice the manipulation.” 

“It’s fine work, Dot,” Phryne agreed. “Aunt P is going to love her present.” 


End file.
